Pictured below is Vicaria, at the height of its power, some fifty years ago...[img]http://w.ndtvimg.com/sites/22/2016/03/12143031/960-2.jpg[/img]
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The Divine and Holy Theocratic Empire of the Heavenly Realm of Vicaria, is no more. You should've seen it my children, it was glorious. A monument to a time when virtue and paragons of virtue were prominent, champions of our faith, and holy rites were human rights. The temples towered over every hill, and our sacristies were the beating hearts of our nation. Legions were raised to fight for our cause, and across cultures, our faith was strong. Prophets spoke of times of plenty and profit, and their words were proven true. Our scriptures were copied down by our scholars and scribes, ruminated upon, and read aloud by Kings, Emperors, and Gods under our very own roofs. The empire was strong and healthy, but when sickness took root, we were too slow, too confident in the genuine goodness of our fellow men. Even tyranny would have been preferable to what came to pass...

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The razing of an outpost by barbarous heathens in modern-day Vicaria.
[img]http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2013/09/02/article-0-1B9397A5000005DC-501_964x625.jpg[/img]

Our vast and sprawling empire is sorrowfully reduced, to a single province from whence our Empire sprung long ago. The petty Kingdom of Vicaria, erstwhile capital of the empire, is a weak and grasping thing, full of holes and many thousands of cracks. Our Holy Scripture must now be translated into baser tongues, our sacred fathers and daughters of the faith are driven to roaming the streets more and more desperately. All the while unbelief and blasphemy bleed our kingdom dry of her heavenly virtue. Thieves and brigands own our streets, gamblers and braggarts claim the day, whilst whores and thugs have stolen the night from us. Even the most pathetic of our people are driven to laze about and suck at the gangrenous teat of what remains of our empire, never lifting a finger to help the state. There are seven vices in Vicaria, seven daggers thrust into our breast, that drive us to these measures. We must employ levied soldiers and mercenaries, and we must storm our towns and villages, hold inquisitions, burn away what is diseased, to cleanse our kingdom in preparation for its second coming. Our rebirth must be one of virtue, not vice. 

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[img]https://esoterx.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/gallows.jpg?w=529[/img]

"-So as you can see, my brothers and sisters, my sons and daughters, these miscreants and scum, these villainous bastards of evil, whoresons and devilbrides all, must be put to death." Father Jacobs proclaimed, his speech complete. He turned to the aforementioned whoresons and devilbrides, some of whom looked very, very tempting in their current state of undress. He licked his lips greedily, and walked along the platform, examining each one of them and introducing them to the crowd.

"This one," Jacobs began, "is known as Salim of Raydir! He was caught stealing from the coffers of the Church! For this heinous crime, he shall be put to death!" The crowd roared its approval, and Jacobs nodded, though he looked away in distaste from the boy in question. Far too thin and spindly for Jacobs to... tend to.

"And this one? He is an erstwhile knight, grown fat and drunk on the wealth of our holy divines! He has stolen not only from our revered protectors, but also from each and every one of you! He has stolen from your own favour with our gods! Aleksandr IIX will die, his greed given up for our entire empire's deserved glory!" Jacobs' eyes lingered longer on this one, his form much more suited to the... caress of God."

"Lastly, and of particular note, besides these other sinners and sold souls, is this one. This defiler of women, beater of the broken, and blasphemer of the blessed! He is worth less than the shit-smeared dirt underneath your feet. He is a vile, gods-damned heathen whose only solace will be in the FIVE PITIFUL SECONDS IT TAKES TO CHOKE THE LIFE OUT OF HIS CORRUPT BODY!" Jacobs roared, spittle flying into D'ren's face. The priest was close enough to bend down and kiss the man, and if it hadn't been for the damned constable, Jacobs could have stolen several moments alone with the deviant, to take his pleasure. There were of course, others in the gallows, women even. Whores, cutpurses, and histrionic hysterical sluts who had the lust in their eyes even now, tied up as they were. Their tears and cries of passion showed themselves to be so, Jacobs knew well. Despite their presence however, Jacobs felt that he would rather take this D'ren and ravage him with God's wrath. Men were more satisfying to break, and definitely far more satisfying to leave broken, waiting or even pleading for death.

Father Jacobs turned to the crowd, and the roars of approval he had expected were not forthcoming. Instead, a muffled applause echoed weakly in the square of the town. His lips turned down in a scowl and he turned to the executioner, an even rougher looking man than most of the criminals and heathens being hung. "Kill them. Bring me the bodies."